he would be on their trail, instead of having them on his. It was well
that he had adopted this precaution, for he had scarcely concealed
himself before the roll of a drum announced that the guards were being
aroused, and that the pursuit was about to commence; and presently a
squad of cavalry dashed rapidly by, and a crashing in the bushes told
him that a party of men were searching the woods for him. As soon
as his pursuers were out of hearing, Frank rose to his feet, and ran
along the road, close to the bushes, so that, if he heard any one
approaching, he would have a place of concealment close at hand. He
had made, perhaps, half a mile in this way, when he discovered a man
pacing up and down the road, with a musket on his shoulder. He was
evidently a picket; and Frank, knowing that his comrades were not far
off, drew back into the bushes, out of sight. Which way should he go
now? This was a question which he could not answer satisfactorily.
There was, doubtless, another picket-post not far off, and if, in
going through the woods, he should stumble upon it, he would be shot
down before he had a chance for flight. Should he attempt to pass the
sentinel by strategy? This seemed to be the most feasible plan, for he
would have a much better chance to escape in running by one man, than
risking the shots of half a dozen. Besides, he had no weapon whatever,
and he resolved to secure the picket's gun, if possible; so, waiting
until his back was turned, he came out of his place of concealment,
and approached him.

"Who comes there?" shouted the picket.

"A friend," answered Frank.

"Advance, friend, and give the countersign."